


If I Fall...

by Damdamfino



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A little dark but sexy and well written, Angry Sex, Arguing, Cousin Incest, F/M, Incest, Missing Scene, Prompt Fill, Pseudo-Incest, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 00:30:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14068971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damdamfino/pseuds/Damdamfino
Summary: Jon won’t let Sansa end their argument on a sour note the night before the battle, but their fighting turns into something much more...passionate.[Request for “angry tent sex” from Tumblr.]





	If I Fall...

**Author's Note:**

> Russian translation by Irina over on Ficbook.net 

Her words stung harder than any steel he might meet on the morrow. “If Ramsay wins, I’m not going back there alive.” Her eyes had burned through him with the fiercest fire before she emphasized the thoughts that were already screaming in his head. “Do you understand me?”

_Aye, I bloody understand you. I understood the moment you looked at me._

He was doing this for her. Couldn’t she see that? He had been ready to leave everything behind, to damn the bloody Others and forget he had ever been North. He was no one with no home and no family. Until she had shown up at Castle Black and back into his life, he had lost all hope - all purpose.

But this - _this_ \- he would do. He would take back his fathers home, his childhood home, her childhood home, and restore the ancestral seat the belonged to his blood. She was the one who wanted this. With or without him, she was going to take Winterfell back from her monstrous husband. If it was the last honorable thing he did in his broken life, he would try to help her.

And she was bloody criticizing him. She had left with a threat. The plan was not good enough. All of the men they had gathered was not good enough. _He_ was not good enough. He ripped an arm across the table and wooden chips bearing sigils and banners flew like tiny shards into the air. _No_. He would not let it end like that.

He stormed through the rows of tents. Men and free folk alike scattered as if afraid to be in his line of sight. There was a hushed whisper in the air. They must have heard the shouting from the tent. Did they know they were dead men walking? Would they cut him down themselves and leave with their lives? It had happened before.

It did not matter. It was too late. But he was not going to let the conversation end there.

He found her tent quickly, and threw the flap open without warning. Sansa jumped up from the chair where she sat with a small shout. A stack of parchments blew in the wind and her quill and ink toppled to the side and splattered across her dress. He didn’t care. He pointed a steady finger at her, and struggled through his breathing.

“Don’t you _ever_ speak to me like that again.” He had meant for it to sound nicer. He never wanted Sansa to yell at him or threaten her own life to him. But in his rage it came out harsher than he intended - more angry, more possessive.

She gawked for a moment, shocked at his intrusion. She was still just as angry as him, though, and continued without missing a beat. “I shall speak as freely as I please! Clearly there will never be a window you allow, so I must do it myself!”

“The night before battle is not the time-”

“And when would the time be?” she scoffed, grabbing a nearby cloth to clean up the spilled ink. The chore didn’t seem to slow her down, as she continued shouting at him while working her hands perfectly. “A fortnight ago, when I was just a weeping woman? Or when Ramsay plunges an arrow into your heart? Would you like my advice then?”

“Ramsay won’t-“ Sansa cut him off loudly with a bitter scoff. Jon seethed, balling his hands into fists at his side. He was struggling to hold in the rage he wanted to lash at her. She was so infuriating and seemed to grate his nerves more than any other woman he had ever known. If she would let him get a single word in… “I promise - he will not survive.”

Sansa only stared at him, her eyes hard and disbelieving. “Don’t make promises you cannot keep.”

They both knew. They both knew their chances of winning were slim. That’s why they were yelling and tensions were high. The encampment was filled with men awaiting their death. He might very well die on that battlefield tomorrow - _again_ \- but he was at least going to try. For Rickon. For Robb, for Arya, and for Father. For _her_.

“You think you know everything,” she sighed, dropping her hands. “But you don’t. You know nothing, Jon.”

Those words...those very words kept haunting him. “I know fighting! That is one thing I do know. I know how to win!” It was the only way he knew how to help her. He could not change the past. He could not take away her scars. But he could fight, and he would die trying to help her. But that did not seem good enough for her. What else did she want from him? What else could he do?

“You don’t know Ramsay! You don’t know what he’s like. You don’t know what I’m to return to if he wins! Are you honestly asking me to just trust you? To let this happen?”

“Leave, then.” Jon taunted, though he wasn’t sure if he truly meant it or not. “If you don’t believe in these men, then just flee into the night. No one will notice your absence.” _Run_.

Sansa stared wide-eyed, her chest heaving with her panting. Her lip curled around a scream she was holding back. He knew he had spoken too far. He had insulted her very honor. Suddenly, Jon caught her wrist midair as she swung it to his face. _Don’t_ , he warned silently with a tilt of his head.

“How _dare_ you-“ she screeched. His eyes narrowed.

“How dare I? How dare you! How dare you try to bring upset on the eve of battle. How dare you threaten your own life! I won’t let that happen!”

“You don’t know what you’re asking! You don’t know.” Tears began welling in her eyes, and she tried ripping her wrist from his grasp but he would not let go. She struggled against him, her words turning into desperate cries. “ _I cannot watch you die!_ ”

The words shocked Jon into silence. Was it her worry for him that spurned him? Her sudden admission clicked the words he had struggled to say for weeks now. She yowled like a cat in heat to free her arm, but her tears spoke louder. She was lost.

“ _What?_ ”

Her pull loosen, and her body started to slump, defeated. He refused to let her go now. Her eyes fell slightly as she confessed, “Not you, too.”

With a yank he jerked her to look at him. “Sansa, listen to me! I’m not going to let that happen.”

She shoved him with a scream. “Damn you!”

If this were to be his last night alive, then so be it. Halfway through her cries, damning him to the hells where he knew he belonged, he hooked his hand around her neck and pulled her to him.

He crashed his lips to hers, to quiet her and stop her crying. He didn’t need words anymore. He knew. At first her body was tense as she resisted, still angry, but he would not let go. Then, as if in a moment of sudden clarity, she grabbed his head and returned his kiss full-heartedly. Suddenly it was a whirlwind of hands, as she struggled to rid him of his breeches. He took the moment to travel down her neck, nibbling the soft skin that met the crease of her shoulder.

Once his cock was free and out in the cold air, he grabbed her waist and threw her onto the table. More parchments fell to the floor as he bunched her skirts up past her thighs. He couldn’t wait anymore. This tension that had been building in him for months was crying to be relieved. Sansa gasped sharply as he entered her and Jon couldn’t help but let the growl in his throat out.

Sansa bit his bottom lip hungrily as his hips thrust into her, fervent and wanting. Every crash another nail in his vows. She was in tune with his motions, rocking her hips back and forth to fully enjoy him. There was a heat and a passion between them he had never felt before. Her moans almost had him losing himself right then and there. Her lips so sweet and hot he wanted to drink from them forever. He tried to muffle the sounds of his pleasure, but the sin of it all had him harder than steel. He had never felt so alive before.

He knew they may never have another chance for this. And in the back of his mind, he mourned. He mourned all the nights they would not have. He grieved the sweet mornings that would never be. He already missed the feeling of her flesh against his, even though it was right in front of him now. Somehow knowing the feeling made the longing worse. If not tonight, then never. If he failed tomorrow, he would never feel this again. So, he took it. This was not a celebration, this was a requiem.

He wrapped a hand around her throat, pushing her body down towards the table as he leaned against her stomach to thrust even further in her. Her legs writhed behind him, locking behind his back. Her moans grew deeper, darker and more frequent. He could smell the scent of her perfume in her hair.

“Would you still?” he asked into her neck, with another deep thrust. “You’d rather _die_ than go _back_ to him?”

Between grunting gasps, she answered, “ _Yes_.”

He knew what he feared most after tonight. There was a fate worse than death that awaited him. He swore this. He knew this stronger than anything else in this moment.

_If I fall…_

Her hands tangled into his hair, pulling and tugging his hair free of its tie and yanking his head back. He wanted to bury within her. To drown hopelessly and never resurface. He had wanted this for a long time.

_Don’t bring me back…_

“Jon...” Her voice was a breathless whisper. A hungry whine. A longing plea. An open prayer. It only grew the hot, endless need within him. His name on her lips was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

_For she will be gone…_

Her cries pitched high and her nails dug into his back as her entire body shuddered in waves. She cursed the gods. She whined and twisted. Jon felt a rolling heat inside him as he finally succumbed and released himself within her.

_And I will never feel this alive again._


End file.
